


Blind Dates and Other Disasters

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blind Date, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, dlaf2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy Lewis Crack Challenge 2019Day 10: Mistaken FlirtationJane really needs to meet someone new. Darcy has a plan. It...does not go well.





	1. Mistaken Flirtation

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

“I know you don’t always get along with her, but I need your help, Skye,” Darcy begged, looking at the hacker’s face on her laptop screen. They were using Phil’s secret secured Skype thing.

“She yelled at me, okay? It hurt my feelings. I barely touched her thingamajig,” Skye said.

“So, you’ve seen how she gets. This is an emergency. Jane needs nookie! I _have_ to find her a blind date before she portals half of SHIELD to Jotunheim because she’s no-sex grump,” Darcy insisted. Since Thor and Jane had called it quits, Jane hadn’t dated anyone. Which was fine. But if she went six months without getting any, she tended to throw lab equipment.

“Fine,” Skye said, “but I want some of your Nutella whoopie pies as eventual payment. Who are we looking for?”

“Appropriate age SHIELD single male agents, with Australians preferred,” Darcy said.

“Australians?” Skye said.

“Her soulmark says something that could be Australian,” Darcy said. “Maybe, it’s not totally clear. At first we thought it was gonna be Thor’s version of No Fear Shakespeare....”

“Gotcha,” Skye said. “So, we’re trying Aussies?"

“Why not tempt fate and see if the one might be around?”

“Oh,” Skye said. Darcy could see her working. Phil’s Bus crew protégée was a more skilled hacker than Darcy and liked to goof around in the SHIELD database. “Bingo! Here’s a shortlist, I’ll email you photos.”

“Oooh,” Darcy said. “That Agent Rollins is cute.”

“He was one of those HYDRA triple agents,” Skye said. “Impressive. He helped get Pierce at Triskelion.”

“Less likely to be scared of Jane, then,” Darcy said. “Also, nice eyes, very tall, I bet the muscles are good, these are all her interests. He’s our guy. I’m going to Commence Operation Blind Date.”

“What about you?” Skye asked. “Are you seeing anyone since the move to DC?”

“Oh, I’m looking for toddlers in fancy suits to neglect,” Darcy joked. Having broken up with Ian, she was on a bit of a dating break. She had been unmarked until one day in 2014, when she woke up to a funny as hell soulmark on the inside of her arm:  _“Lewis, why’d you stand me up at that coffee shop? I bought a new suit, goddammit! I thought we had a date.”_

Darcy thought her (potentially now five years old) new soulmate was going to be very interesting. When she’d panicked about it, Jane had introduced her to the work of Walpurgis and Ferguson, who said soulmates could be platonic as well as romantic, and that the emphasis on romantic soulmate-hood was a legacy of more limited past thinking. Darcy had decided her baby soulmate _definitely_  had to be a platonic one. They would probably watch a lot of Disney movies together, maybe go to an aquarium? In the meantime, she was baking cupcakes for Jane’s date.

 

The next morning, Darcy tucked the cupcakes into a box with a flirty note on the lid-- it ended _meet me at the coffee shop on U Street at 8:30--_ into the back of the lab fridge where Jane never looked and went to a previously scheduled eye doctor’s appointment. Which sucked. They dilated her eyes. Everything was sunny and too blurry when she got back to work. But thankfully, she had help. Phase one of Operation Blind Date was tricky. Darcy couldn’t just email Jack Rollins to set him up with Jane; she didn’t have the right clearance to access email addresses. So, she would draw on her secret weapon: master spy _and_ relentless matchmaker Natasha Romanoff. They were meeting before lunch, near the locker for STRIKE Alpha’s gear. Darcy brought the cupcakes. “Hello, I have the package,” Darcy said jokingly. She was wearing her post-dilation sunglasses indoors. “The cuckoo sings at midnight,” she added. Natasha rolled her eyes,

“You are ready?” Nat said. “You go in. I have already used my access card. It is clear. Rollins’ locker is the third from the end along the back wall. It should be unlocked. I have the magnets from Bruce. They unlock everything, all the lockers should be open once I press this.” She waved a small black box.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “3-2-1. Go!” Snickering, Nat pressed a button on her handheld device.

“Now,” Nat said, giving her a little shove into the locker zone.  A blurry-eyed Darcy struggled to locate the locker and had to pop her sunglasses onto her head and strain to see, but finally she got to it, opened the door, and put in the cupcakes.

“Shazam, Agent Hottie,” Darcy announced. She walked away without realizing she’d gotten the fourth locker from the end, not the third.

At lunch, she dragged Jane downstairs for real food. Well, sorta. Cafeteria food. Darcy was happy to have Jane showing an interest in a real meal, but _God, her eyes were going crazy. Stupid dilation._ She kept blinking.

 

***

“Who is that?” Rumlow said. They were at lunch, sitting at their usual table in the SHIELD cafeteria.

“Who?” Jack said.

“The woman winking at me,” Rumlow said. “In the glasses?”

“That’s--uh, I don’t know her name, but she works with Jane Foster, there next to her,” Rollins said. “The beautiful one who used to date Thor?”

“In the flannel? You think the chick in flannels is hot?” Rumlow said.

“Nothin’ wrong with a woman in flannels, mate,” Rollins said. “She’s a right genius, too.”

 

When they went for their tactical gear after lunch, Rumlow opened his locker and saw a little box. “What the hell? Somebody made me cupcakes?” he said, opening it. Jack peered over curiously and raised an eyebrow. “Wants to meet me for coffee tonight?” Rumlow added. His stomach lurched a little at the word _coffee._   

“You gonna go?” Rollins asked, giving him a significant look.

“I need to find out who this is,” Rumlow said, feeling a weird nervous energy. He’d originally been unmarked, but he’d woken up in the hospital with a strange bit of mangled text on the inside of his arm after the Battle of Triskelion. Once Helen Cho had healed his burns, the words became legible: _Who wears a suit to a date at a coffee shop?_

“How?” Rollins said. They’d signed the note with a little smiley face. “Are they even good cupcakes?”

“I dunno, you try one,” Rumlow said, handing him the box. He’d memorized the place and time. “I’m going to see Klein.”

“You don’t want the box?” Jack called.

“Just save me one!” Rumlow called back. He found Cameron Klein working on the tech’s floor. “Klein, I need a favor,” Rumlow said.

“You don’t have to hold a gun to my head,” Cameron said dryly.

“I need to find out who left cupcakes in my locker,” Rumlow said seriously. “I’m sorry I held a gun to your head, I was undercover at the time, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know that now,” Cameron said. “Now.”

“I’m sorry. Just check the cameras for whoever left me cupcakes, please?” Rumlow asked.

“Is someone trying to sabotage your abs regimen?” Sharon Carter said, walking by with paper work. Everyone knew he was a diet and exercise guy. “Get you from the inside?” she teased.

“Oh, no, what if it’s a HYDRA mole?” Cam said

“Or a spurned girlfriend,” Sharon said. “Did Renee in the archives actually key your car?”

“No, for God’s sake, she just accidentally hit me in the new parking lot. We never even dated, those spaces are just tight,” Rumlow said. Cameron snorted.

“Okay, here’s your cupcake sneak," he said, pulling up a screen with footage. Rumlow leaned forward.

“Winky girl?” he said, astounded.

“That’s Darcy Lewis,” Sharon said. “She’s Jane Foster’s assistant.”

“Thanks,” Rumlow said, clapping Cameron on the shoulder. “What do you know about her?” he asked Sharon.

“Well, she’s worked for Foster for years, since New Mexico--”

“Yeah?” Rumlow nodded

“Survived Thor, Dark Elves, very funny, crazy about coffee--”

“Ow,” Cameron said, “are you trying to dislocate my shoulder?”

“Sorry,” Rumlow said. “Sorry.”

 

He had to buy a suit. For luck.

 

***

“Success!” Darcy said, when she saw Jack Rollins walking around with the cupcake box later that day. He looked happy. She’d dragged Jane out to a patio to note-take within view of STRIKE Alpha’s training grounds. Espionage and vitamin D.

“Huh?” Jane said.

“Jane, I’m going to need you to pay attention,” Darcy began. “I need you to go to a coffee shop tonight--”

“A coffee shop?” Jane said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “There will be a really cute surprise waiting for you at the coffee shop on U Street. Like, hella cute.”

“Cute?” Jane said.

“I swear to you, just go,” Darcy said. “It’s 131 U Street. Eight o’ clock.” If she told Jane eight, she might be on time.

“Okay,” Jane said.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

That night, Jane decided to venture out and see the “really cute” surprise. She couldn’t make sense of her theorem and she was irritable AF. Knowing Darcy, it would be something weird, but funny, and she could use the break. Last time, Darcy had sent her to a bar with a mural of Tom Selleck. This place would probably have a portrait of 90s Leonard DiCaprio made out of bottle caps. She was wandering around, looking for the coffee shop at 331 U Street. “It’s a furniture store,” Jane sad, sighing and looking into the darkened windows. “Where is she sending me?” she wondered aloud, looking around. “Oh.” There was a coffee shop directly across the street. It looked busy. She crossed and walked up to the door. A smiling woman was standing there with a clipboard.

“Welcome to our Cats and Coffees event. All the kittens are adoptable!” she told Jane cheerfully.

“Oh, wow,” Jane said.

“The cats are next door, but you can get a coffee and carry it over,” the woman said. “Health code.”

“Yeah,” Jane said, grinning. She liked cats. This was a good surprise.

 

Several blocks away, Brock Rumlow was sitting at a table, tapping his fingers on the shiny formica surface.  Had this girl actually left him cupcakes and then _stood him up? Who did that? Was it a prank?_

“Rude,” he muttered. “Totally rude.” A passing customer gave him a skeptical glance. She raised her eyebrows at the barista.

“I know, right? Hot, but totally grumpy. His date stood him up, I think?” the barista whispered.

 

***

“How was it?” Darcy said, when Jane walked into the lab in the morning. “Did you like your surprise?”

“Why are you here so early?” Jane said.

“I was too excited to sleep!” Darcy said, parroting an ad.

“It was _great._ I had a fantastic time. Thank you. I just needed to get out of my own head for awhile,” Jane said.

“Did you take your surprise home last night?” Darcy asked.

“No, but I’m seriously considering it. Now that we’re staying here, I could, right? We’re not going to travel, so it would work,” Jane said. “I could make that kind of commitment.”

“Yeah, you could. High-five!” Darcy said. Jane was smiling, Darcy realized. A lot. She must actually like Jack Rollins. She texted Natasha.

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** We’re awesome matchmakers. She is _thrilled._

 **Comrade, I Have Two Eggs:** I had no doubt of our success.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** New screen name! You finally watched _Ninotochka?_

 **Comrade, I Have Two Eggs:** Yes. It delighted me.

 

“Jane, I’m going for coffee, you want one?” Darcy asked.

“Sure,” Jane said, scrolling through Petfinder. “What do they call those things for cats? With the posts and carpets?”

“Cat trees?” Darcy said, baffled but assuming it was a science metaphor for Jane’s latest paper on astro tunnels or something.

“Yes, thank you!” Jane said. She was typing as Darcy left.

Darcy was listening to Mishka and ferrying coffees back upstairs when the elevator doors open. She was humming “Give You All the Love”  when a male voice called for someone to hold the elevator. Darcy wasn’t paying attention. She was having too good a day. A guy in black tactical clothes stepped in the elevator, visibly pissed off. “Lewis,” he snapped, “why’d you stand me up at that coffee shop? I bought a new suit, goddammit! I thought we had a date.”

“Who wears a suit to a date at a coffee shop?” Darcy replied automatically, before his words registered. Her mouth fell open in a little _o_ of surprise. This guy was definitely not in pre-K. He was also really handsome. They stared at each other.

“I’ll take the next one,” the SHIELD agent who’d stopped the elevator said.

“Thanks,” Darcy’s soulmate said, shifting slightly as the other man stepped off. He looked back at her. “You gave me cupcakes and then you stood me up?” he repeated.

“No, I didn’t,” Darcy said.

“Yes, you did,” he said stubbornly.

“I left cupcakes for Agent Rollins,” Darcy said.

“Oh.” He looked uncomfortable. “They ended up in my locker by mistake. You want to date Jack?” he asked, rubbing his jaw.

“No, no,” Darcy said. “Not me! Natasha and I are trying to set him up with my boss. Jane Foster?” she explained. “She likes Australians….” He brightened.

“Good,” he said. “That she likes Australians. He thinks she looks cute in flannels.”

“Really?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. “We can probably sort this out. Double date?” Darcy nodded.

“Wait,” Darcy said. “If she didn’t meet Jack, where did she go?” Darcy restarted the elevator. “She was all cheerful, I thought they’d had a good date.”

“You make really good cupcakes,” Rumlow told her, as the elevator ascended.

“Thanks,” Darcy said. They both went quiet. The elevator floors dinged. “I should probably tell you before the double date, though, I’m a Walpurgis and Ferguson person,” she said.

“A who?” he said.

“A platonic soulmate believer. I thought you were going to be five. I planned for a platonic soulmate. That okay?” Darcy said.

“A what?” he said, looking at her incredulously.

 


	2. What Happens When Your Soulmate is Totally Incompatible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos on chapter one! This was intended as a itty bitty one-chapter thing, but then it occurred to me that it would be interesting to write something where soulmates didn't get along immediately. Not in a Super Angst way, but in a more typical way. Because that had to happen, right?

“I thought we’d have a platonic, non-sexual relationship. You know, where we hang out, but with clothes? I don’t believe that soulmates _have_ to be in a sexual relationship, they can just be friends,” Darcy explained to her brand-new soulmate. The elevator was pinging softly.

“Oh,” he said. “So, you’re not gonna pressure me to get married?”

“Noooo,” Darcy said slowly. _I just met you, dude, she thought, of course I don’t want to put a ring on it._

“Good,” he said.

“I don’t even know your name,” Darcy said, vocalizing this time.

“Brock,” he said. “Brock Rumlow.” Darcy laughed, then realized he wasn’t kidding.

“That’s a very retro name,” Darcy said, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. Brock—she repressed another giggle—shrugged.

“We should get Jack and Jane together,” he said. “He wants to meet her, even if he’s not her guy. You wanna strategize at my place tonight?” he asked. Darcy looked at him, eyeing the tattoo patterns on his arms. Technically-speaking, it was good for soulmates to spend time together. Proximity, touch, shared experiences. They all extended soulmates’ life expectancy, lowered their blood pressure, and contributed to well-being and emotional health. They’d done studies. Spending time with your soulmate was like getting a dog, multiplied thrice. _He’s three dogs, she thought. Definitely, one of them is a Rottweiler and at least one has a weird name._ “If you don’t--” he began.

“No, I do,” Darcy said. “It’s good for us to spend time together, too.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “we should get to know each other.” Darcy thought she caught him eyeing her with a strange expression.

 

That night, when she arrived at his place, he greeted her with a beaming smile. “So, I thought about the best way for us to get to know each other,” he said.

“I’m not having sex tonight,” Darcy clarified.

“No,” he said, snorting a little. “I wanted to talk about hobbies. You like fights? I love fights.”

“Fights?” Darcy said, baffled. “You want to fight me?” He raised his fists playfully and mock swung at her. Darcy held her hands up in alarm and raised her eyebrows at him.

“C’mon. No, we’re not going to fight,” he said, scoffing at her. “We’re gonna watch fights. This one’s great. I got popcorn, sweetheart. You like popcorn, right? I got air-popped.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. He grabbed her a bottled water--the man didn’t have soda and she wasn’t drinking alcohol--and she looked sadly at the bowl of pale, dry, popped corn on his coffee table. Zero butter. Darcy wondered when she’d done the universe so wrong.

“Man, it's so great to be sharing this with a soulmate,” Brock said. He was smiling as he started the DVR. Darcy watched, slightly horrified, as he grew more and more engrossed in the fight. He was a fight fretter. He leaned forward, watching intently, until he couldn’t look anymore. He was rooting for one guy, so it pained him to watch that guy take hits. “Oh, oh,” he said, when his guy’s opponent got in a few solid hits.

“This seems painful for you?” Darcy said.

“It’s agony,” he said seriously. “But days when you win, that’s the greatest thing. Oh, yeah! Go! Go!” His guy had backed the other guy into a corner. There was blood splatter. Darcy was puzzled. Her thing was curly fries and Netflix. Everyday for her was a win. “What?” he said, catching her expression.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “They’re just pulverizing each other. It’s...ugly? Like, um, bullying?” To her surprise, he choked on his bottled water a little.

“Excuse me?” he said. “This is beautiful. It’s like...ballet.”

“Ballet?” Darcy said. “Are you high?”

“You obviously don’t get it, get the beauty of it. He’s proving himself. It takes courage and determination and real grace under pressure...” This speech continued for several minutes while he gestured expressively. Darcy realized that Brock was on a roll now and she needed to put up a verbal roadblock to stop the pending lecture.

“I just saw his tooth fly out in slow motion,” Darcy interrupted.

“People misunderstand fighting,” he said seriously.

 

***

“You want me to go on a double date with you and your new soulmate’s work bestie next weekend?” Jane asked. “This soon?” she added. “It’s only been a week since you met, you don’t want more privacy?”

“God, no, he’s driving me crazy,” Darcy grumbled to Jane.

“What?” Jane said.

“All the people he admires beat each other up. I’ve watched all these fights since we met! Cortez versus McClellan! Dobrov versus O’Brien! They knock each’s teeth out, there’s blood everywhere, and then afterwards, he wants to _talk_ about it with me like it’s a presidential debate,” Darcy said, sighing.

“So, no sex?” Jane said.

“Absolutely not,” Darcy said. “I’d run away to another country, but he would find me _because there are fights there and he tapes them._ Tonight, we’re watching some guy from Senegal beat up a guy from another town in Senegal and I am informed it is serious business and I am not allowed to make any wiseass jokes.” Jane started to laugh.

“You’re making me feel good for not having met my soulmate yet,” Jane said.

“Count your blessings, sister from another mister,” Darcy said.

“You can’t be 100% miserable, you’re soulmates!” Jane said. Darcy shook her head fiercely.

“Imagine if your soulmate was a crackpot academic who believed in Flat Earther shit?” Darcy groused. She was feeling a little pissy. Staying up to watch fights in Myanmar meant she hadn’t gotten much sleep. She’d fallen asleep on Brock’s couch.

“It’ll be okay,” Jane said comfortingly.

“How did I end up with this kind of a soulmate?” Darcy wailed. “Couldn’t I have just gotten the guy who really liked Liam Neeson movies?”

“What if you make him do something you like?” Jane said cannily. Darcy’s eyes lit up.

 

***

“Goat yoga, huh?” Brock said as they walked into the studio that Tuesday afternoon. She’d called him as soon as she found out there were two spaces left for that day. It smelled like lemongrass essential oils. There was soothing music. The walls were a soft lavender. _He could see what it felt like, she thought._

“Yup,” Darcy said. “We’re here for the goat yoga class?” She grinned. The woman at the front desk smiled back.

“Wonderful! We don’t get many male students,” the woman said to Brock, face bright. “Welcome!”

“So, I’ll be the only dude there? I like those odds,” Brock said, smirking. Darcy rolled her eyes. He was such a yutz. Whenever they went to dinner or whatever--she’d started insisting he feed her things with butter before a fight marathon--he got hit on constantly. Waitstaff, baristas, even a woman with a freaking baby in a stroller. It was absurd. She’d never been around someone who got hit on like this. And she was with him! People didn’t know they weren’t a couple, after all. Thank God that hadn’t happened with Ian or anyone else she’d dated. It would actually be kind of hurtful if they’d been more than friends, all those women (and a few guys) leaning all over him and touching him and laughing suggestively when he said that he wanted to see the wine list. 

Goat yoga was really fun, though. The studio had it outside in the grassy area behind the building, so the goats climbed on you, bahhh’d, and then hopped off. Sometimes, they fell down. It made Darcy feel very seen. She looked over at Brock to see if he was miserable. To her surprise, he was beaming. He made bah sounds at the nearest goat and then the goat headbutted him in the face. Darcy laughed so hard she fell out of bow pose and had to lay on the mat for a minute. “That’s nice,” he told her. “Some soulmate you are.”

“Oh c’mon, you have to admit that was funny,” she said.

“Wait ‘til it headbutts you,” he said.

They were doing a few final meditation poses and she was giggling at the friendly, kissy goat in her lap when she realized the woman on the other side of Brock was flirting with him. “You’re just so comfortable with your masculinity,” she was saying breathlessly. “That’s so inspiring. I’m Lisa.”

“Brock. I try to set a good example for other men in my workplace,” he said back, with the casual tone she recognized as his total bullshit voice. “Things can get very competitive and, uh, what’s that term, Lewis?” he asked her. He turned to look and winked.

“What term?” she said. She knew the term.

“The poisoned masculinity thing?” he prodded. “I know you that you know. She studied political science, she’s great with terms,” he told the other woman.

“Toxic masculinity,” Darcy said. The other woman continued to beam at him as if Darcy was invisible. Here we go again, she thought. This time, he actually got her number after class.

 

“You want coffee? You should try my bulletproof coffee place,” he said, as they got in his car. “They’ve got regular coffee for sleep-deprived chocoholics,” he teased.

“Fine,” she said, trying not to cross her arms.

“What’s up with you? I thought you liked goat yoga?” he asked.

“I do like goat yoga,” she said. “I went to goat yoga because it’s a me thing and I wanted to enjoy it without it turning into a _you_ thing.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know, you bullshitting your way into Lisa’s pants and dragging me into it?” Darcy said.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, Lewis, what’s that term, oh, oh, I’m in a constant workplace battle against _toxic masculinity_ , Lisa, please let me develop a deep and meaningful relationship with your thong,” Darcy said, doing a reasonable approximation of his accent and air quotes.

“Your Bronx accent is fucking terrible,” he said, tapping the steering wheel. They were at a red light.

“Pffht,” Darcy said.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” he said, grinning.

“Admit what?” Darcy asked.

“You’re a little bit jealous of all the attention I get,” he said.

“I am not,” she insisted.

“Oh, what, you’re the one human being in the universe who doesn’t find romantic attention validating and meaningful?” he said. “You’re that kind of special? Well, let’s get you to R&D, sweetheart, they want to look at those brain scans of yours, find out what makes you tick.”

“In the words of Sam Wilson, shut the hell up,” Darcy said.

“Who told you about that?” he said, expression going blank. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, too.

“Who do you think? Cap, of course,” Darcy said. She’d heard that he’d had to pretend to be HYDRA during the Battle of Triskelion in an attempt to get to Pierce. “I heard Sam totally kicked your ass,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said in a brutally cold voice. “He was totally winning that fight before he managed to escape the collapsing building and I fucking didn’t. But, you know, the third-degree burns finished the job for him,” he said, as he pulled into the coffee shop parking lot. “My ass was pretty thoroughly kicked.”

“What?” Darcy said, baffled.

“Oh, did they forget to tell you the part where Helen Cho had to patch up my full body burns? I guess that’s not a funny story, huh?” he said, getting out of the SUV and slamming the driver’s side door.

“Shit,” Darcy whispered. She assumed he’d walked inside, but he surprised her by suddenly opening her door. He’d put his aviators on, so she couldn’t read his gaze. “I’m sorry--” she began.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said bluntly. “You didn’t know.” He looked at her for a minute. “From now on,” he said, “let’s try to be more careful with each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling awful. “I really am sorry--”

“I know,” he said. “It’s in the past. We’re getting coffee now. C’mon.”

She snagged a good table while he ordered for them. Darcy sat, feeling miserable, and watching all the happier-looking people around them. She had never contemplated the mechanics of his and hers kindergarten-aged soulmarks. _They’d brought him back from the dead, she realized, horrified at her own stupidity._ She wondered if it was too late to go back and request the actual five year old, since she was so freaking inept at being an appropriately-sensitive adult with other traumatized adults. Darcy was pretty sure she could do better with the five year old. Maybe her name would be Sophie? Or a little Jackson? They could go see cartoons and she wouldn’t inadvertently trigger someone whose most meaningful life experience was potty training. Darcy sighed. She looked at Brock in line. He was chatting with the guy ahead of him. He really was friendly. It was no surprise people flirted with him. He was warm. The other day, he’d told her that he loved her because she’d seen his phone battery was low and plugged it into the charger for him and found where his favorite protein bar had slid under the seat. Of course people mistook that kind of sociability as flirtation.

She would give him more space, once they’d figured out the Jane and Jack situation, since it was so clear they were awful around each other. It wasn’t like they needed to spend three or four nights a week together. That was probably why they were struggling with getting along. She was thinking about it when he walked over.

“Chocolate mocha with cinnamon and extra whipped cream,” he said, setting down her drink. “Also, a fucking heart attack in a cup.”

“I happen to think it’s dessert in a cup,” she said, trying to sound normal.

“Just how many desserts do you think there is in a day?” he asked.

“As many as you can fit?” she said. He laughed and then intentionally messed with her hair. “Cut it out, I paid money for that blow out!” Darcy said.

“You paid money for what now?” he said, sitting down.

“Someone to dry my hair. I want it to last at least a few days, okay?” she said.

 


	3. Consult Your Physician Before Beginning This or Any Other Exercise Program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Y'all are the best! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Jane was concerned about Darcy. She had stopped by after watching that Sengalese match with Brock and cried in Jane’s arms, she felt so guilty about insulting him. There had also been a little blubbering about “feeling really stupid and weaksauce” because Darcy had gotten wound up over people flirting with him. That was a sentiment Jane could readily understand, post-Thor. If she had a dollar for every time someone had pinched Thor’s ass, she could fund her research for two goddamn years. It was an emotional pickle, the freaking soulmate thing, Jane thought, looking at the mark on her arm: _I think you dropped your equipment, Doctor. She’s a real beaut._ Not Thor’s first words to her.

After Darcy went home all sniffly, Jane had immediately called Steve and read him the riot act about half-told gossip, inappropriate gallows humor, and _not warning Darcy about important events in her fucking soulmate’s life._ Steve had apologized, but Jane fretted. If Darcy had a falling out with her soulmate, it could have long-term health implications: frequent minor illnesses, like colds, higher risk of depression, shorter lifespan. Some studies were even linking a lack of a soulmate to chronic illnesses. Jane’s widowed mother was currently a volunteer in a study on soulmate loss and fibromyalgia. Darcy was healthy and strong, Jane thought, but that didn’t mean she was impervious to physical illness--or the general soulmate sads. She was thinking that when she got to work the next morning and told Darcy to head up to the break room and make coffee. Jane had a box to pick up from deliveries, but she thought Darcy needed the coffee more. She looked tired. Jane wondered if she should take Brock aside and say something? But she wasn’t the most polite person; what if she made it worse?

Jane went down to the loading docks and picked up her delivery. “And there’s this, too,” the guy at the desk said, plopping a crumpled-looking and strange envelope onto the box. It had unusual postage.

“Huh,” Jane said. “Thanks.” She didn’t remember ordering this--but then she saw the writing on the envelope and smiled a fraction. It must be something from Thor. They’d stayed on good terms. She opened it. The item inside glinted gold. Interesting, she thought. Probably a measurement tool. Thor still sent her anything he thought she might find scientifically intriguing.

She walked to the elevator and tried to hit the button while she held the shipping box with the Asgardian tool on top. Unfortunately, she was preoccupied with thinking about Darcy’s soulmate problem and the box tilted enough that the tool slid onto the floor. Jane didn’t notice until a male voice behind her said, “I think you dropped your equipment, Doctor.” Jane turned. A very tall, extraordinarily handsome man was leaning down to pick it up. “She’s a real beaut.” He turned it over in his hands and then looked at her, smiling a fraction.

“You’re him!” she said. “I thought you’d be from another planet!” His face lit up and he grinned even more widely at her.

“I’ve spent a bloody long time wondering if my face reminded my soul mate of an alien,” he said wryly. “I’ll take that,” he offered, as the elevator doors opened. He set her Asgardian tool on the box and took it from her gently. He could hold it under one arm. “Jack Rollins. I believe we have a date?”

“You’re Agent Rollins?” Jane said, gobsmacked.

“Yes,” he said.

“That’s completely wild,” Jane said.

“Not entirely,” he said, winking. “I might’ve put in a special request as a fan when my buddy’s soulmate turned out to be your assistant.”

“You’re a fan of my work?” Jane said, delighted.

“I do have that _Time_ magazine with you on the cover,” he said. “And _Scientific American, National Geographic,_ and _People._ I did whack Thor’s face out of that one with scissors and stick me own photo in...whoops, have I said too much?” he asked, clearly joking. Jane was utterly smitten. He had the most interesting face, she thought. Geometric. She was momentarily stunned when he grinned widely at her and it changed his whole expression. “Have I rendered you speechless, darl?” he asked.

“Possibly,” Jane said. “Are we still going on that date this weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. When Jane got back to the lab and told Darcy, Darcy was so shocked by the news that she actually spilled some coffee. It was a stunner of epic proportions.

 

***

“I can’t believe they’re actually soulmates!” Darcy whispered to Brock at lunch. He looked up from his steamed vegetables and frowned.

“Didn’t you tell me her mark sounded Australian? Logically, it makes sense,” Brock said. Jack and Jane were talking in low voices at the end of the table. Jane had already told Jack the mistaken cat-blind date story and he’d laughed for five minutes.

“What, you don’t think it’s romantic?” Darcy said. “The whole course of their first meeting?”

“By the elevator?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“No, no, they almost meet all these times when she’s hung up on Thor--New Mexico, London, now with the cat thing--and then when she’s finally ready, he appears, _right behind her in her workplace_ ,” Darcy said in a low voice. She thought it was cute. Brock looked at her.

“You think _almost_ meeting over the course of most of a decade is romantic?” he said.

“Yeah, don’t you?” she said. He shook his head and looked funny. “What?” she asked.

“Lewis, we almost met all those times, too. We finally met because you had eyes too dilated to tell Jack’s locker from mine and accidentally stood me up while you were trying to set up our best friends,” Brock said.

“I don’t get it?” Darcy said.

“It’s much funnier,” he said. Jack must have overheard them because he looked up and grinned at Darcy.

“Don’t pay him any mind, Darce, he’s very competitive,” Jack said.

“No, I’m not,” Brock said, getting up with his lunch tray. “I’ll be back.” At Darcy’s fretful look at his retreating back, Jane shrugged. She’d already mentioned Darcy’s faux pas with Brock to Jack. He recommended that Darcy not worry about it. Brock was pretty resilient, he’d said. Darcy didn’t seem as convinced.

Darcy watched Brock talk to someone on STRIKE Alpha across the cafeteria. She was trying to figure out when would be a good time to dial back their social commitments, post-double date on Friday. Jane and Jack were obviously doing well. Darcy looked up at them. They were beaming at each other like they were the only two people in the world. It was super cute.

 

Unfortunately, the cute started to wear off quickly when Jane called her at 5:42 am.

 

***

“This is wildly annoying,” Darcy said to Natasha as they ran side-by-side--well, Nat was running, Darcy was fast walking--on two treadmills in SHIELD’s gym.

“What, milaya?” Nat said, not even slightly out of breath.

“Look at Jack and Jane over there, all flirty and goo-goo eyes. They haven’t even gone on a date yet and she’s getting up early to go to the gym on the pretext of seeing him and dragging me along,” Darcy grumbled. She wanted a latte and a muffin, not to be huffing along while Jane pretended to need Jack’s instruction on the weight machine. Jane was actually behaving as if she needed someone’s help to understand non-doctorate-required equipment? Jane! “Grrrrrr,” Darcy said out loud. “Since when is she like this?” Darcy asked Nat. The adorable soulmate factor had officially gone kaput for Darcy. Nat laughed.

“You should feel proud to have set her up with her soulmate before their words were uttered. It is quite good work,” Nat said.

“Except for the initial attempt where we accidentally set her up with a tiny kitten?” Darcy said.

“We?” Nat said archly.

“Okay, me and my blind eyeballs,” Darcy amended.

“Has she selected the kitten?” Nat asked. “I believe Jack likes cats.”

“I think they’re going to go to the shelter together,” Darcy said. Things were moving rapidly since their first meeting. There had been joking discussion of co-raising a cat after work yesterday. Most baffling were Jane’s giggles. One floated across the gym. Darcy found it perplexing, since Jane never acted like that with Thor. She said it to Nat, who tilted her head at Darcy and did a tiny smile.

“Perhaps she does not mean to let Jack go?” Nat offered.

“Yeah, sure, I just don’t know why she couldn’t pretend to be exercising with you, it’s way more plausible,” Darcy said, yawning. She had to hang onto the arms of the treadmill because it was a long yawn and she was a closed eyes yawner. When she opened them again, Brock was crossing the gym with a woman Darcy didn’t recognize.

“Your soulmate is still exercising with Agent Doll?” Nat asked.

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“Agent Doll,” Nat repeated, tilting her head in their direction. Darcy stared at Nat and then Brock and back again. The woman with him could be cast as Lara Croft. She was incredibly fit and had a gorgeous face and a long straight braid.

“Her name is actually Doll? Her real name?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” Nat said dryly. “Kristen Doll. She has punched many, many men. But you are not upset?”

“We’re platonic, he can go to the gym with Britney Spears if he likes, I’m not his girlfriend or the boss of him,” Darcy said firmly. Also, if she got to sleep in, Jane could exercise with a bunch of naked male models, soulmate or no soulmate. Darcy felt very morally flexible at seven twenty-two in the morning. Just then, Brock saw her and waved.

“Kristen,” he said, “come meet my soulmate.” He and Doll strolled over. Darcy stopped the treadmill. She was trying to be careful with him--his words--now, so she leaned over awkwardly to shake the woman’s hand.

“Hi,” Darcy said. “I’m Darcy Lewis. I work for the genius over there,” she said gesturing to Jane. Jane was gazing dreamily at Jack on a weight bench.

“Kristen,” the other woman said, smiling politely. Darcy wondered if the last name was a source of ridiculousness, so she skipped it? Darcy was distracted enough that she was surprised when Brock hopped on the treadmill behind her.

“Aww, Lewis,” he said, looking over her shoulder at the display. “Eleven minute mile?”

“Don’t be mocking my mile time,” she said. Darcy turned to swat at him but he got to her first and slung an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her gently.

“We’ll work on your mile time,” he said. “Okay? You want to start the day with high-intensity interval training?”

“I want to start the day with a donut,” Darcy said. Agent Doll laughed.

“C’mon, you gotta try HIITs, they’re the best,” Brock said. “The most efficient, the most rewarding.”

“Explain to me what it is, please?” Darcy asked.

“You go fast, you go slow, fast, slow,” Brock said. “It challenges your systems.”

“That doesn’t seem bad,” Darcy said.

 

Twelve minutes later, her muscles were almost audibly yelling through a sprint. “Oh my God,” she said. “You lied!” Except she had to yank the emergency shutdown magnet off the treadmill to stop first and said it pantingly. She was dripping sweat. Her thighs felt like JELLO. This was the definite end of her salon blowout. She stopped for a minute and clung to the treadmill arms, breathing raggedly. “Oh my God,” she repeated.

“What was that?” Brock said. On the treadmill next to her, he grinned. He was utterly calm and non-sweaty at a pace faster than hers.

“Bite me,” Darcy gasped.

“You want to try something else?” he asked. Something else ended up being kettlebell swings. She really didn’t mean to lose her grip on one and almost smack Brock with it.

“Maybe you need medicine balls?” Brock suggested mildly, in response to her horrified expression.

“Yeah, I think so,” Darcy said, wide-eyed. Her kettlebell was an eight pound cannon with a handle, basically. He laughed.

“You didn’t actually hit me,” he said.

“Only because you dodged!” Darcy said.

“I’ll get the medicine ball,” he said.

"I think that would be good, yeah," Darcy said.

Brock invited her back to his place that night. With the double date the next day, Darcy said yes. After that, they wouldn’t need to be glued to one another, right?

 

“Ugh,” Darcy said to Jane at four-thirty. “I feel eighty.” She had been shuffling around as the impact of her workout this morning sunk in. She had wet hair from showering at work--it was going to be all frizzy in the humidity--and sore muscles.

“That bad, huh?” Jane said. She looked up from where she was toggling between her work data and texting Jack through SHIELD’s messaging system.

“I didn’t realize I had so many muscles until they ached,” Darcy grumbled, wiggling in her office chair. Her butt cheeks actually hurt.

“Jack says Brock is wildly competitive, so you should tell him to dial it back,” Jane said, reading from her laptop screen. Even under fluorescents, she looked all glowy.

“Are you happy?” Darcy asked seriously.

“So happy,” Jane said. “I don’t understand how knowing someone for a day can feel so comfortable?”

“I dunno, how much sex have you had?” Darcy joked.

“Pfffht,” Jane said, sticking out her tongue.

 

***

“I think the medicine ball tricked me,” Darcy groaned when Brock opened his front door. To her surprise, he looked genuinely alarmed and actually reached out to support her.

“We’ll get you to the couch,” he said. “Dammit, did I over do it?”

“I didn’t know I had so many muscles until they hurt,” Darcy told him. She winced a little as she sunk into the sofa.

“We did too many squats,” Brock said grimly. “I’ll get you something.”

“Booze?” Darcy said hopefully.

“Nah, not a good idea, sweetheart,” he said. He brought her a Diet Coke.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. He’d gotten her Diet Coke? It was cold from the fridge. He cocked his head and studied her.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked. “Hamstrings? Calves?”

“Ummm,” Darcy began, thinking _what is the term for entire lower body?_

“Hold on, I have an idea. Can you take your shoes off and roll up your leggings?” he asked, leaving the room.

“Huh?” Darcy said out loud. Did he have a foot spa? A foot spa would be nice, she thought. She gingerly took her boots off and carefully--she muttered,”ow, ow”--slid up her leggings over her knee caps. Brock emerged carrying items in each hand. “What,” Darcy said, “are those?” They looked oddly like life jackets...for your legs?

“Leg compression wraps,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, thinking _what?_

“They help with circulation, which helps with healing. These are fitted for me, but I think we can make them work for you,” he said, kneeling down to slide them around her feet. “After my burns were healed enough, I still had some circulation insufficiencies,” he explained. “This was part of my recovery PT.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said.

“Don’t thank me, I injured you. We probably should get you fitted for better athletic shoes, too,” he said. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I hurt my soulmate.” He dragged over an ottoman to prop up her feet and then plugged in the machine.

 

A few minutes later, Darcy was drinking a Diet Coke as the air compressors started to work and Brock brought her some peanut M&Ms. “You let chocolate and diet soda in your house?” she said, astounded.

“You like them, right?” he asked. "Is the setting on that okay?"

“Yes and yes,” Darcy said.

“Do you want pizza? I could order you pizza? I feel bad for hurting you,” he said.

“Don’t feel bad, I was complicit,” she told him. “Are we watching the Muay Thai Open in Arizona later? Can you watch those somewhere? I saw an ad for that online today. It popped up in my Facebook ads,” Darcy said. She had been googling things. Brock got the phone.

“What do you want on your pizza?” he said.

“Cheese and pesto?” she said. He nodded. “Will you explain the featherweight and lightweight thing to me again? I can’t believe there are, like, two classes of fighters littler than me.” He looked at her incredulously and started to laugh. “What?” Darcy said. “Are they small children or just really skinny guys? These are reasonable questions, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, pausing to order her food.

She was eating a slice and trying not to groan like a heathen when he looked at her during some of pre-fight chatter. “Sorry,” Darcy said, even though she didn’t really understand why announcers and commentators were so obnoxious. And loud. They were so loud!

“Why do you pay someone to straighten your hair when it looks like that naturally?” he asked.

“What, like a big frizzy triangle?” Darcy said.

“No, it’s nice,” he said. “It looks good.”

“Pffht,” Darcy said. “Does not.”

She was very happy to eat pizza while he leaned forward urgently, eyes glued to the screen during the fight. “Oh my God, no, no,” Brock muttered. “This cannot be happening…” He covered his eyes. “I can’t look,” he said. “I can’t look.” She had to repress a giggle as she looked down at her legs encased in orange bags. The air compression hummed.

Her life was freaking weird.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Air compression leg massagers look like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_debvw9T_yA


	4. TKO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! All books, therapists, and fighters names' are fictional, but El Bebe is real: https://www.el-bebe.com. Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

 

“So,” the SHIELD therapist asked Brock, “how have you been?” His therapist was a very nice woman named Dana. He liked Dana. He’d seen her several times a week for a year after Triskelion, until he felt well enough for more periodic visits. He didn’t feel like lying to Dana. He opened his mouth, sighed, and shut it again. She laughed. “Well, that speaks volumes,” she said to him wryly. He rubbed a hand through his hair and huffed.

“I met my soulmate,” he said. They’d discussed his mark.

“Great,” Dana said. “Are you getting along?”

“Yeah, I mean, reasonably well,” he said. “She just--she wants me to be a platonic soulmate, you know? She’s read those guys, Whatshisface and Ferguson?”

“She’s read Walpurgis and Ferguson?” Dana said.

“She’s Jane Foster’s assistant,” he said.

“Darcy?” Dana said. “Oh, Brock, she’s very cute.”

“Yeah,” Brock said, grinning. “She’s cute.”

“But she doesn’t want to pursue anything romantic?” Dana said sadly.

“I haven’t really asked since the day we met and she announced that she’d thought I was gonna be five years old and her platonic buddy,” Brock said.

“Oh,” Dana said. “Well, I can see that being her initial idea, give the age of your marks, but you’re adults. Why don’t you check in with her periodically and find out how she feels?”

“Because that’s so easy?” he said.

“Hello, I seem to remember that the idea that you had somebody out there for you was a huge part of your recovery,” Dana reminded him. “You were looking forward to meeting your soulmate. I haven’t forgotten that. And I put it in the notes.” She grinned.

“Yeah,” he said. “I dunno…” He sighed.

“Or maybe you should read Walpurgis and Ferguson? Get used to the idea of a buddy-buddy soulmate relationship?” she said. He sometimes needed humorous prodding to not to downplay his feelings and minimize his turmoil.

“I’m starting to hate those two names in combination,” Brock said, waving a hand. “Fuck Walpurgis and Ferguson.” Dana cracked up at his petulant expression.

“You like her,” she said. “Don’t dodge the feeling.”

“Bah,” he said. “She’s a baby-faced M&M fiend. She might think I’m being pervy.” Dana had to laugh.

“Consider the idea that relationships can evolve over time,” she told him.

 

***

Leaving her office, Brock decided the most sensible thing to do--he wasn’t going to flail himself alive by admitting to Darcy that he’d really yearned for an intensely romantic, sexual soulmate bond--was to read those Walpurgis and Ferguson fuckers. He stopped by SHIELD’s in-house library and archives. They kept resources on psychology and sociology for agents, they might have the book. When he requested it, the librarian on duty grabbed the book for him.

“All right, motherfuckers,” he told the blue-covered book as he sat down for his office hours. He could skip working on a report. “Whaddya got?” he asked the book. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t talk back. He started skimming the introduction, grabbing his yellow Post-Its to mark sections. _“Soulmate concepts conceived as purely romantic place undue burdens on the individual to meet a preconceived social role that is incredibly narrow and limited. A more progressive view of the soulmate relationship is required…”_ he read aloud, sighing. When he got to the section where the authors criticized the Aristophanes’ model of the soulmate, he sighed. When they quoted the Greek writer directly to criticize, Brock stared at the page for a moment:

_“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.” - Aristophanes_

He wanted to throw the book across the room. This was exactly what he’d imagined when he’d woken up in that DC hospital, covered in burns. His other half, the closing of a deep wound. That knowledge—that a soulmate existed and was out there—had motivated him even when the painkillers were too weak to fully treat his pain without killing him, when physical therapy was agony, when his moods grew black and he had gazed longingly at the edges of knives:

_His soulmate was out there. He would live for that. Day by day. He couldn’t quit, she was waiting…_

Dana has even had him write some of it down in his therapy journal. That had kept him going until Helen Cho healed him and Darcy’s words had become readable on his skin. He pulled out the notes in a file in the back of his desk drawer and re-read them. He had spent the initial months trying to puzzle out the words on his burned, scarred skin. He’d even taken photos, just in case his tissue died or needed to be grafted later. He hadn’t wanted to lose the words, even when he didn’t know them. They were in the file, too. He looked at them. The texture of the photos was glossy. Brock sighed. How would Darcy understand all that. Where could he even begin?

He put the photos away and returned to the book. They had a double date tonight.

 _Aristophanes’ vision of the soulmate pair as a united whole and the individual as a ‘wounded’ half sets up the individual to fail in a myriad of ways: in their lives before they meet the soulmate, if they are unmarked, and if they and their soulmate ultimately fail to bond in meaningful ways. A healthier, more modern conception of the soulmates as two healthy, full-fledged individuals actively choosing to be together on a daily basis is needed. Such a construct allows the soulmate pairs to build off a more solid and realistic foundation of good feeling in whatever type of bond they so choose, be it platonic or romantic, closely intimate or more distantly acquainted, despite differences of age, sexual orientation, socio-economic status or education..._  


“Godammit,” Brock muttered, shaking his head. Across the hall in his own office, Jack heard him and lifted his head.

“What’s that, mate?” Jack called out.

“I don’t hate these Walpurgis and Ferguson assholes,” Brock said. “I can’t. They kind of have a point.”

“What’s that now?” Jack said, getting up.

“They’re, uh, writing about adding more flexibility into the concept of soulmate pairs, so you don’t end up with an eighteen year old feeling obligated to fuck some forty-five year old they just met ‘cause their words match,” Brock explained, nutshelling one of their study examples. “It’s actually kinda nice to hear these stories where people just, I dunno, took care of each other without romantic expectations?” he said. “More ethical? I still feel weird saying the word ethical.” Jack nodded.

“Yeah,” the Australian said. “I remember our old ethics lectures.” Alexander Pierce, who favored wholesale slaughter in his utilitarian worldview, had thrown around the words “ethical” and “long-term ethics” a lot, usually to justify killing somebody.  “Listen, mate,” Jack said suddenly, “Darcy’s a good egg. You’re a good egg. Just give it time.”

“What if my eggs are too scrambled?” Brock joked.

“Nah, don’t think so. You’re soulmates for a reason,” Jack said.

“We’re soulmates for a reason,” Brock repeated.

  
  


***

Jane was excited, Darcy realized, as they waited for Brock and Jack to meet them. The double date was at a new Mexican place called El Bebe that specialized in tacos and tequilas. It was fairly raucous. A passing waiter brought them drinks in skull shaped glasses. Jane leapt up when she saw Jack. They were kissing in an instant. Feeling a strange pressure not to embarrass Brock, Darcy hugged him and pressed her mouth briefly against his cheek. He was slightly stubbly. She smiled.

“What?” he said.

“Your five o’clock shadow tickles,” Darcy whispered.

“You want me to shave?” he asked.

“No,” Darcy said, looking into his eyes and then looking away. His expression was ambiguous.

“You want tequila?” he asked. “I feel like tequila.”

It was an awkward night. Darcy felt weird. She didn’t know why she and Brock were even there. Jack and Jane were totally, almost uncomfortably engrossed in one another. There was no reason for them to stay, she thought, as the guys got their drinks. Darcy looked at Brock. He looked unhappy.

“You okay?” she asked him quietly.

“It’s loud,” he said, sipping from his skull drink.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She leaned closer. “I kinda hate busy Friday nights at restaurants,” she confessed. “It's not the restaurant, it's the--"

"Drunks?" he said wryly, as someone behind them yelled 'motherfucker' loudly.

"I’d rather watch fights at your place.”

“Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Truly,” she said.

“Stop fucking with me,” he joked. They were sitting there awkwardly when STRIKE Epilson showed up. Some of the guys came over to say hi. The guys were bullshiting when Darcy heard Commander Diaz make an off-hand comment about Ignacio winning his upcoming fight against O’Brien.

“No, he won’t,” Darcy piped up. Heads swiveled towards her.

“No?” Diaz said, looking smug.

“O’Brien is gonna wear him down. That’s what he did with Dolan and Martinez. Ignacio doesn’t have a history of TKOs and O’Brien’s main technique is to just exhaust his opponents,” Darcy said. Brock looked at her, so she added a prediction. “O’Brien will keep moving until Ignacio gets tired and makes a mistake. Ignacio supposedly didn’t even warm up before his last fight, so what are the odds he’s got his adrenaline under control?” she said.

“That right?” Diaz said. “You wanna put $20 on it?”

“Sure,” she said. The other guys laughed. She thought Brock’s stunned expression turned pleased, but she wasn’t certain. It emboldened her to trash talk the Epilson guys a smidge for being so naive about the Ignacio media hype. Finally, she got Brock to laugh.

“Where’d that come from?” Brock said quietly, once they’d walked away.

“What? I can’t read up?” she asked Brock. "You want another mezcal?"

“You wanna get out of here instead?” he said.

“And go where?” she asked. He shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, getting out his phone. “I’ll call an Uber, if you’re worried about me driving safely,” he said. Darcy nodded.

  


***

Darcy woke up  at 7am with a faint headache. She rolled over and realized there was something--no, wait, someone, snuggled up against her. “Brock?” she said.

“Mhhm?” he said.

“What do we do last night?” Darcy asked. She thought she remembered everything, but that couldn’t be right. And he was in her bed….

“We left El Bebe,” he said. “And we crashed a ghost tour of the monuments--”

“Uh-huh. I remember that,” Darcy said. “There was walking. And then?”

“We stopped at a bar for more tequila because you said the ghost tour was historically inaccurate,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“And then we went to Target,” he said.

“Because bitches love Target,” Darcy said dully.

“You were pretty firm on that,” he said. “And I got you that thing and we put it together and had more tequila and--”

“Wait, what did we put together?” Darcy said, wondering, _naked body parts?_

“Popcorn machine,” he murmured. “And I helped hang your new poster and you wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said.

“Did I try to get you to have sex with me?” she said nervously. She got more handsy than she would normally would be under the influence.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “I made you put your clothes back on after you sang the tequila song, though.”

“I feel like I should make you coffee?” she said.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he said.

 

Darcy slid out of his embrace and stumbled into the living room. There was an extremely large popcorn machine next to her coffee table. “I bought a standing popcorn machine?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he called back.

“Brock?” she said. “Where did this kitten come from?” Darcy said, staring at the tiny thing blinking up at her from a crate in her kitchen.

“That’s Jack and Jane’s.”

“But why do we have it?”

“Because they decided to go hiking over the long weekend,” Brock said. “Dropped him off a half-hour ago.”

“We have a cat,” Darcy said out loud.

“Temporarily,” Brock called out. "Should I help with the coffee?"

"Yes!" Darcy said.

 


	5. Hwello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are awesome!

They stayed at Darcy’s with the kitten. She was apparently concerned it was too little to be left unsupervised. “I think we should stay here with it,” she told him. Brock had to repress a laugh. Her expression was serious.

“It’s a cat?” he said.

“Are you not a cat person?” she asked. “Also, I’m very glad you don’t like camping.” They were sitting on the couch together after breakfast.

“No, I like cats, I just didn’t know they needed babysitters,” he said dryly. “And I’ve done enough mission work not to choose sleeping in a dirty tent recreationally.” He mouthed the word _bugs_ and curled his mouth in distaste. Darcy grinned back at him.

“Does he have a name yet?” Darcy asked. She playing with the kitten.

“No idea,” Brock said. He’d forgotten to ask about names or babysitters. He was a terrible weekend cat sitter, apparently. He watched as she picked the kitten up and held it.

“Hwello,” she said. “Kitty kitty.”

“Hwello?” Brock teased.

“He would name you Bruiser and teach you to fight, little one,” Darcy said. “Hey yah!” She made a fist and the kitten nosed at her hand. Brock laughed.

“I’m not that bad,” he said. “Am I?”

“What should I learn to do?” Darcy said, looking at him.

“Learn to do?” he asked, puzzled.

“What kind of fighting?” she said.

“Do you want to?” he asked. Frankly, she was terribly uncoordinated and he could imagine her losing a fight with a blanket. He refrained from mentioning the little fight he’d seen her have with her shirt last night, but smiled in spite of himself.

“I need to keep up with you, don’t I?” she said. He shook his head. “What?” Darcy said. “Why are you smiling?”

“No,” he said. “I just need to be fit enough to slow somebody down so you can get away.”

“I don’t think I appreciate your premise,” Darcy said.

“No?” he said, reaching out to pat the kitten. It hopped around Darcy’s lap clumsily.

“Why would I leave you behind?” she said.

“Because I told you to run?” he offered calmly.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll listen,” she said.

“If I tell you to run, I want you to run,” he said. “I mean it.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. She passed him the remote. “You pick something,” she told him. He looked at the remote, then at her playing with the kitten. Took a breath. Launched the sentence.

“I’ve been reading Walpurgis and Ferguson,” he said. “My therapist suggested it? Dana. She’s the SHIELD therapist.”

“Oh, I’ve met Dana,” Darcy said. “She seems nice.”

“She’s good, not stuffy,” he said. “I just started the section on platonic relationships and I wanted to talk about it. With you.” He breathed in, waiting. Darcy looked unperturbed. Was she happy? “So, what do you think?” he asked.

“Well, okay, oh my God, I’m super excited because now I can talk about this with you,” she interjected cheerfully.  He felt relieved. “Jane and I have talked about it, but nobody else I know has read this. What do you think about that section on good feeling and positive emotions?” Darcy asked. Good feeling was their term for actions or things that fed a sense of happiness, comfort, or overall well-being, he knew.

“I feel like it’s sorta fuzzy?” Brock said.

“Me, too,” Darcy said. “I mean, you can bend and stretch that in all kinds of ways, you know.”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding.

“I mean, raspberry jam gives me the warm fuzzies. So, how is it useful to my relationship with you?”  she asked.

“Raspberry jam?” he said.

“Well, on stuff,” she said.

“What kind of stuff?” he asked.

“Are you making it dirty? Don’t be doing that, mister. I mean, like, toast, okay?” Darcy said. He smirked.

“What else gives you good feeling?” he asked. “Besides toast and jam? What if we made a list and defined it that way, as things we can learn about each other?”

“Ooooh, great idea,” she said. He got up and retrieved a notepad from the stack she’d told him that she kept for Jane’s visits. “What gives me a good feeling….?” Darcy said musingly. He nodded.

“Just say the first thing that comes to mind. Free associate?” he said.

“Being inside and having coffee when it’s gloomy and raining outside,” Darcy began. “Warm, dry socks.”

“I like that one,” he said, writing down _dry socks_. “Nothing worse than being suck in the field in wet socks. This time we were on a mission in Iraq and I parachuted straight into the fucking Tigris-Euphrates swamp and we were off course by a half mile, so there I was stuck walking in goddamn wet boots.” He underlined the two words.

“Ewww. What about you?” Darcy asked. “Good feeling?” He thought for a minute.

“Passing Discrete Mathematics for Computer Science in college,” he said.

“Double eww,” Darcy said. She made a face at the kitten.

“What?” he said, smiling.

“I hate math,” Darcy said. “I took the most basic math courses possible and still had panic attacks.”

“It wasn’t that hard, but it was a prerequisite for my computer science minor,” he said, laughing.

“Wait, what was your major in?” she asked. They’d never discussed it, he realized.

“Mechanical engineering,” he said. “What did you think it was in?”

“Shooty Things?” Darcy offered. “Or criminal justice?”

“I feel vaguely insulted,” he teased her.

“My version of that was Statistics for Political Science,” Darcy said. “Data for polling and stuff like that.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, smiling. “What else goes on your good feeling list?”

“Carbs--bread, pasta, potatoes, that kind of thing. You?” she said.

“Grass fed beef,” he said.

“Good,” she said.

“Good?”

“I’ll eat your potatoes, you can have my steak, it checks out,” she said.

“Hadn’t thought of that. What else?” he said.

“Coffee, hats, blankets--I get cold,” Darcy said.

“Okay, keep Darcy warm,” he wrote down. “You can have all the blankets. I tend to run warm anyway.”

“Because you’re made of muscle?” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, smirking. She’d noticed how fit he was. That must be a good sign? What if..? “You want to come over on Sunday and eat my pasta for me?” he suggested.

“We’ve got the second double date then,” Darcy reminded him. “Unless we’re bad friends…?” she suggested.

“We let Jack and Jane go by themselves and hang out together instead?” Brock offered.

“Could we?” Darcy said. “The idea of going to a noisy restaurant on a holiday weekend…”

“Total drag,” he said, thinking of the loud drunks and the people he’d have to glare at for bumping her chair. She nodded happily. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Cake,” Darcy said.

“Okay, goes on the list,” Brock said. “Sex?” He grinned, remembering her little striptease routine. She’d gotten most of her shirt off before he could stop her. There had been a fumbling kiss that took him by surprise, but that he wouldn’t have minded reenacting at a later date.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Sometimes together.”

“Together?” Brock said, eyebrows raised.

“Well, more sequentially. First, birthday cake, then birthday sex,” she said, sounding like she was trying to be breezy. “You don’t need to worry about the second one--wait, what are you writing?” Darcy said, as he made a note. _“Run background check on single men at Darcy’s birthday party?”_ She started to laugh. “Very cute, Brock,” she told him, looping her arm around his bicep. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Who says I’m kidding? I never kid about background checks, I studied Shooty Things in college,” he said.

“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically. “Exercise is a you one.” He nodded. “Tattoos should be on your list, right?” she asked, running her hand over his arm. He had to repress a shiver.

“Definitely,” he said. She didn’t seem at all bored when he told her about getting two of them in Thailand. Instead, she listened and rested her head on his shoulder, touching his arm gently. He tried to keep his voice even.

 

They spent the whole day together, just goofing around in her apartment, playing with the kitten, recovering from the tequila, until he announced he had to hit the gym. “Can I go?” Darcy asked.

“You hate the gym,” he said.

“I like being around you, though,” Darcy said. “He’s three dogs,” she told the kitten.

“I’m what?” Brock asked.

“Being around your soulmate is roughly equivalent to the mental health boost you get from adopting a dog three times,” she explained. He laughed.

“That right?” he said.

“I guess we can’t take the kitten?” Darcy asked.

“I don’t think Tony likes cats. My boxing coach,” he explained. He watched as Darcy looked at the kitten.

“I’ll put you in your crate, no collar, plenty of water and kibble,” she told it seriously. Brock followed her into the kitchen. “Do you think this crate is big enough?” she asked him. He frowned.

“No idea,” he said.

“Does he like women?” Darcy said.

“The kitten?” Brock said.

“No, your coach!” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Tony won’t mind you being there. He has five ex-wives. Or six, I forget. The man loves women.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

He was a little nervous that it would make her nervous. He didn’t want to scare her off. Gyms could be full of shit-talking and big personalities. But he shouldn’t have underestimated her. If she wasn’t afraid of Diaz, she wasn’t going to get shaken up at the gym. Instead, she flirted wildly with Tony and generally carried on like she was comfortable in her own skin. He was the one who ended up getting distracted. She was trying to jump rope and it caught his eye. And then the guy he was practice sparring with caught his nose.

 

 

***

“Oh em gee! You’re bleeding!” Darcy shrieked. She climbed into the ring.

“I’m fine, really,” Brock said.

“You get away from him,” Darcy hissed at the Ukrainian fighter who had clocked Brock in the nose. The man backed up a fraction. “Do you need ice?” she asked. What if his nose was broken, she thought. “Should we go to a doctor?”

“No, I’m fine,” Brock said. His expression was a little puzzled.

“But your nose!” she said, upset in spite of his calmness. She could punch the Ukrainian, she thought. Dmitri or Oleg or whatever his name was? She glared at him when he came back with ice.

“Thanks, man,” Brock said.

“Sorry,” the guy said.

“Sweetheart?” Brock said, “why are you glaring at Nicky?” _Oh, that was his name._

“He made you bleed,” she said glumly. Brock started to laugh. She gave Nicky a dirty look. “Not the face!” she said.

“I’m very sorry,” Nicky repeated, holding up his hands and backing away.

“Are you defending me?” Brock said, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re _my_ person. He wasn’t supposed to break your nose. I could tase him.”

“Please don’t tase Nicky, his mother makes me _borscht_ sometimes,” Brock said.

“Oh, okay,” Darcy said. She fussed with his ice, then realized he was watching her. “What is _borscht_ anyway? People mention it, but I’ve never had it,” she said.

“Soup,” he said. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she said, standing up and struggling to get out of the damn ring. She was tangled between the ropes when he said something in a teasing voice.

“You think I’m pretty or something, so worried about my face?” Brock asked. Darcy paused, struggling with her thoughts, for a split-second. Then she turned to look at him, hoping her face wasn’t embarrassingly obvious.

“Everyone thinks you’re pretty,” she told him softly.

“That right?” he said, climbing out far too easily for Darcy’s ego. “I must’ve missed that memo,” he said, scratching his head slightly. He went to the lockers. When he returned, she asked for his keys.

“I’ll drive,” she told him. Darcy needed the distraction. She’d just spent minutes contemplating exactly how pretty he was. And how protectively pissed she’d felt on his behalf, which was sign one that she’d begun regarding him as her personal property. She’d really wanted to charge that Ukrainian. She’d have done the same for just a few people in her life--her family, Jane. She’d once actually put herself between Jane and some crazy anti-science person once. It meant she was emotionally compromised. Damn it. Unless he was okay with that? They walked out quietly. Was it tense? She thought it felt tense. Darcy climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted it for her height. “So,” she said. “Dinner?” He nodded.

“Thai?” he said.

“Good,” Darcy said, trying not to think about him shirtless.

“This is how you driv---Jesus Christ,” he said, when she took her first curve.

“Sorry, sorry, different car,” Darcy explained. It wasn’t her heart rate or anything. “I drove on the other side of the road in England,” she said. “Pretty successfully.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said. “How many casualties, sweetheart?”

  


They were having dinner at a Thai restaurant when he looked at her. “There’s something I should say,” Brock said. His expression was almost solemn. God, he had the craziest serious face. He could guilt me into lots, she thought.

“Yeah?” Darcy asked. She was nervous.

“I wanted—actually, I dreamed about—a romantic soulmate,” he told her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor PSA: I feel like I might slow my update rate for a bit--I'm in this weird limbo where I have a page or two for several works (the pirate AU; Marriage, Italian-American Style) but not enough to be considered a full chapter update for anything? I feel a bit stuck and I gotta figure out how to power through that. Plus, I want to finish a few things and not just chase shiny, new AUs. Although...for whoever wanted that Brock/Darcy Purge AU? I've got a copy of The Purge: Anarchy and I'm finally watching that in the next week or so. 
> 
> I assume it'll be quiet here while everybody goes and has feelings about Avengers: Endgame, which I probably won't see until it's streaming, 'cause I don't wanna ugly-cry in public. But feel free to spoiler-share with me, because I don't mind that at all. I'd rather know if it'll leave me all sadsies before I go in? Or if Frank Grillo's cameo is shirtless? Definitely tell me. 100%, I need to know that.


	6. First Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“You wanted that? But you said that thing about me dragging you to the altar or something?” Darcy said. She was floored. Totally shocked. She looked at Brock. He looked tense.

“I don’t know why I said that, nerves maybe?” Brock said. “Fuck, I’m nervous right now. Say something.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I think that could be something to explore. Between us. I mean, you aren’t five.”

“Nope.” He lifted his head and grinned at her.

“I mean, you don’t have some objection to me, do you?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” He looked at her intently. She felt herself start to blush wildly. “Are you blushing?” he asked.

“Umm, no?” she said.

“You are,” he said. He grinned. The rest of dinner felt so much like a first date that Darcy actually got butterflies. He was doing that ‘guy trying to impress you’ bit, she realized. He kept talking about training with different fighters or missions in ways that sounded just a teensy more like bragging than he normally did. He gestured and made funny faces and laid the charm on really thick. She knew she had it bad when she thought it was cute instead of obnoxious. He wanted to impress her. Him! It was weirdly flattering. How was she supposed to process this? She realized she was processing it in a horrifyingly basic fashion when she caught herself laughing and biting her bottom lip. Shit. He was turning into First Date Guy and she was one hair flip from Basic Girl-slash-Contestant #22 on _The Bachelor_ . Whoops. Everything was going so precisely like a first date that she was taken aback when he reached across during dinner and put his hand over hers. She looked up at him and inhaled. “You okay?” he said grinning. He had broken the first date feeling, made it something more with that subtle gesture. _Oof,_ Darcy thought, as her heart stuttered. _Is this a soulmate feeling? This feels like a soulmate moment._ He was looking at her with a warm expression.

“Yeah,” she said, finding her words as her mind spun. “I’m going to have to re-learn how to be cool if you keep doing stuff like that.” He smirked.

“Did you know how to be cool to start with?” he said.

“Shut your face,” Darcy said. “I’m very cool.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“What?” she said.

“I babysat a kitten with you, it was a very exciting weekend,” he said. That made her feel a little less respectful of the whole soulmate business. Him and his eyebrow waggling!

“According to you, Mr. Bragtime, you’ve had plenty of excitement in your life,” Darcy told him. He laughed.

“You have a lot of nerve,” he told her.

“I do,” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh, I saw that when you almost charged a big-ass Ukrainian,” he said.

“I could have taken him,” Darcy said.

“Sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head.

“With my taser, I’d have dropped his ass,” she said firmly.

“Oh, God, I’m going to have to keep you out of trouble, aren’t I?” Brock said.

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “Surprise, this is your life now! Oh, oh, oh, I have to ask you: do you know what Nat and Clint’s Budapest thing is about?” she asked.

“No idea,” he said. “I think they made it up to fuck with people’s heads.”

“Oh my God, they did, didn’t they?” Darcy said. “Those sneaks. Hey, you want dessert?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll even let you eat it.”

  


He drove her home. They sat in the car for a second. The silence felt a little weighted. “Goodnight,” Darcy said. “I had fun. All weekend.” She had her hand on the door handle when he spoke.

“Darcy,” he said. She turned back. He cupped her face. She realized what was happening a second before their lips met. It was a brief, light kiss. She looked at him. “Thanks for this weekend,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Darcy said. “You could come back up with me?”

“I have an early workout,” he began hesitantly.

“No sex tonight, then?” she asked. He looked at her for a beat, then closed the distance between them. Darcy was fumblingly returning his kiss when he stopped, panting.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning, “can’t breathe through my goddamn nose.”

“What happened in there? When he hit you?” she asked.

“I was distracted by you bouncing up and down, hot stuff,” he said seriously. She swatted at his arm and then smiled slyly.

“I’ll have to kiss you other places,” Darcy told him.

“Jesus,” he murmured, when he felt the press of her body against his as she trailed kisses across his jaw. He smirked at her. “When did you change your mind?” Brock asked. “When Nicky hit me?”

“No, I think it was probably you putting that popcorn machine together that really turned me on,” Darcy said.

“You did strip for me,” he said, exhaling. “Oh, God, I really enjoy having a soulmate when you do  that.” She’d turned her attention to his earlobes. “Even if your idea of a wild weekend is popcorn and pet-sitting,” he said, chuckling. Darcy suddenly sat up. “Wait--where you going?” Brock said.

“The cat!” Darcy said. “I have to go check on it. Bye, Brock!” She opened the car door.

“You’re just leaving me all--” Brock said, as the door shut. He watched to make sure that she got inside okay. She gave him a double-wave then dashed in. “Damn,” he said. “I should have skipped my morning workout. Sex counts as cardio right? And I’m talking to myself.” Brock shook his head.

  


***

“I know, I know, I’m sorry to wake you on your camping trip, but this is major, okay?” Darcy told Jane on the phone. “The kitten is fine. What’s their name?”

“Astra, didn’t Brock tell you?” Jane said.

“Astra? Oh my God, that’s adorable,” Darcy said. “Brock missed a detail.”

“Okay, now tell me what’s going on with you, since he’s all half-naked in your apartment. Did you have sex?” Jane said.

“Nooooo,” Darcy said. “I was wasted and tried, but he shot me down. Then, anyway. Now he says he wants a romantic soulmate.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Jane said archly.

“Why are you sarcasming me?” Darcy said, wagging her finger at Astra. The kitten bounced. “It’s so funny the way they bounce and are so clumsy.”

“Penises?” Jane said.

“Jane! Kitten, okay, kitten. It’s obvious somebody’s getting some Outback--oh wait.”

“Hahaha,” Jane said. “You made it dirtier! But, really, you didn’t see the romantic vibes when he wanted to spend all his time with you, dragged you to the gym so you could see him without his shirt, and then _put stuff together for you?”_ Jane said.

“When you put it like that,” Darcy grumbled.

“I’m very concerned that he’s going to need a billboard for you to get hints about your relationship. But Jack and I can probably make him one,” Jane said.

“You smug, sexed up Ph.D, I’m going to switch your coffee with decaf,” Darcy vowed.

“No you won’t, too much chance you’ll play yourself,” Jane said gleefully.

“Dammit, you’re right,” Darcy said, sighing.

  



	7. Two Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Brock had gone into the office on Sunday for the gym and to work on reports at his desk. They usually worked over part of the weekend anyway, but he was kicking himself for promising to be there and missing the night with Darcy. Jack had wandered in an hour before looking smug and sunburned. The fucker had probably had sex in the woods. Lots of sex. Brock’s desk phone rang. “Rumlow,” he said into the receiver. He was expecting a call from Hill about the last mission reports. 

“Hello, soulmate,” Darcy said on the other end.

“Hey,” Brock said, shifting tone. He caught Jack’s look from the other desk and mouthed _fuck you._ “How’s your day going?” he asked quietly, leaning back in his chair. It was difficult not to grin. He’d been trying not to think distracting thoughts all day.

“Tell Jack that I’ve been babysitting his pussy and his cat since they got back this morning,” Darcy joked. Brock’s grin went even wider.

“Hold on,” Brock said. He could hear Darcy laughing and Jane’s voice on the line. “My soulmate wants you to know your pussy and your cat are fine,” he said. Jack’s cheeks and ears flushed red. “He’s redder than a damn tomato,” Brock told Darcy.

“Darcy!” Jane was saying in the background as Darcy repeated his words, giggling.

“What’s gotten into you two?” Jack grumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“We’re not classy people,” Brock said casually. Internally, he was thrilled she’d called him to make dirty jokes.

“Exactly,” Darcy said. “Anyway, I’m calling to see if you’d like to bail on the science nerds’ dinner date tonight and watch that fight? I was promised pasta,” Darcy said.

“I did promise you pasta,” Brock said. He smirked. “What kind of pasta do you like, baby?” 

“All the pastas,” she said.

“I’ll have to think about that, see if I can get you something special,” Brock said. Jack rolled his eyes.

“You better,” Darcy said. “Carbs are the one area of my life where my standards are actually high.” Brock laughed.

 

“What is bloody wrong with you?” Jack said, when he hung up.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who’s been playing hide the dingo with Jane Foster,” Brock said.

“That is an appalling metaphor,” Jack said, sounding strangled. When his ears had gone red, Brock had noticed something.

“You’ve got hickeys,” Brock said, laughing.  

  


*** 

“Okay, whatever that is smells delicious,” Darcy said, when Brock let her inside his apartment.

“That,” he said, “is pancetta. I’m making you carbonara.” She felt her heart flutter when he smiled. Those were the soulmate feelings, she realized. Like there was something tugging gently under her ribcage, making her heartbeat all go all funny. “You okay?” he said, catching her expression.

“Uh-huh,” she said. He turned to head back into the kitchen. “Wait, hold on,” Darcy said warmly. “Come back! I’m not okay!”

“What?” he said. She reached out and took his hands. Rubbed his wrists with her thumbs. He looked quizzical. “Something wrong?” he said.

“I have all these soulmate-y feelings,” Darcy said. “It’s pretty confusing. I didn’t count on feelings quite like this, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” He grinned. “I really thought my soulmate would be more athletic.” She swatted at him. He used that opportunity to settle his hands around her waist. She turned a little pink.

“Do you know how weird it is that you’ve got me watching sports?” she mock-yelled. 

“I’m making you carbs,” he said. “Look at us, all compromising and growing as people and shit.” 

“How horrified was Jack today?” Darcy asked.

“Mortified,” Brock said. “Give Jane shit about his hickeys later.”

“Okey dokey,” she said. He leaned in to kiss her. She pulled him closer by his shirt collar. The fluttery heart feelings were joined by a second warm feeling between her legs. She did not mind that at all. She shifted her hips against him and he groaned.

“Oh God, this is so hot. You’re watching fights with me, you're fun, and you’ve got this body,” he said, sounding dazed. Darcy grinned at him.

“Same,” she said, sliding a hand under his shirt. “Such nice muscles everywhere.” He huffed a little. They were kissing against the door, half out of their clothes, when Darcy pulled back. “Brock?” she said. “Is something burning?”

“Fuck,” he said, bolting towards the kitchen.

 

“I’ve never seen anybody put out a grease fire before,” Darcy said, once he’d smothered the fire out, turned off the kitchen alarm, and opened a window to let the smoke out. “So, that was useful.”

“I’ve got more pancetta,” he said sheepishly.

“I’ve got other ideas,” she said. She handed him the phone. “You order me pizza, we have a half an hour or so to fool around on the couch until it gets here and the fight starts?” He grinned. 

“You have good ideas,” he said.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Darcy said, nodding, as she led him to the couch. He made the call, then looked at her.

“I’m going to kiss you for thirty minutes or less,” he joked. Darcy laughed and pulled him down on top of her. He pressed kisses up her neck, nibbling and sucking. She kneaded her fingers into his back, finally giving in to the temptation to dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. “Somebody’s feeling lucky,” he whispered in her ear, laughing.

“We’ve had weird date luck, I’m feeling reckless. I need to see you naked before the pizza guy turns out to be a serial killer or something,” she said.

“It was one kitchen fire,” he argued, licking his lips. 

“One kitchen fire, one drunken striptease, accidental cupcakes, and missed opportunities, we’ve had a lot of weird stuff happen to us,” she told him. 

“Shit,” he said. “You’re right.” She nodded.

“Your butt is stupidly cute, though,” Darcy said, squeezing experimentally. “So firm! I _am_ lucky.”

“I know,” he said. He eyed her speculatively. “I’m the luckiest asshole on the planet,” he said, smirking slowly.

 

He’d gotten more than half her clothes off when the pizza arrived. Darcy groaned. “Booooooooo,” she said.

“Hey, I’m in no rush,” Brock said calmly. “I’ll get this. Put your shirt on.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said. “I’m taking yours, pal.”

“I’ve been downgraded to pal?” he asked, buttoning his jeans as the doorbell rang again.

“Somebody’s impatient,” Darcy joked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I meant me,” Darcy said, mock whistling as he walked towards the door. “That’s why you’re not getting the shirt back!”

 

He came back with the pizza and she wiggled up off the couch. “What are you doing?” he said. 

“I’m going to be on top of you for this fight,” she said teasingly. He obliged, laying back with a grin. Darcy passed him a slice of a pizza and the remote, then unzipped his fly. “Make sure we’ve got the right channel,” she said.

“You want me to watch the fight and eat pizza while you do that for the first time? Us?” he said, frowning. She was sliding his jeans down over his knees.

“Who says I’m doing anything other than getting you comfy?” Darcy asked, grinning. She leaned up and dropped a kiss on his perfect abs. “I still have a bet to win about this fight, soulmate,” she joked. “You’re only getting to second base.” She deposited his jeans on the floor. Brock chuckled.

“Second base?” he said wryly.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, wiggling until she was straddling his hips. “At least until this fight is over. O’Brien needs me,” she added. O’Brien was the fighter she was rooting for. “I wanna beat that STRIKE Epilson dude, Diaz, too.”

“Yeah?” Brock said, smirking.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy said, rotating her hips suggestively. “You know, Jane and I took a bellydancing class once,” she said. “I learned to do figure eights.”

“Oh God, you’re killing me,” Brock said, as she moved. “I’m fucking going to die, sweetheart. Have pity on an old man.”

 

They traded kisses during the commentary, then shifted their focus towards the screen once the fight started. “Oh fuck,” Brock groaned, waving around a half-eaten slice of pizza in dismay. O’Brien had taken a rough hit.

“He can make it. Come on, come on,” Darcy said at the TV.

“He’s got blood in his eye, he can’t see,” Brock said, voice agonized. 

“Ahhh,” Darcy shrieked. O’Brien had stumbled, but righted himself. His eye was all swollen and the gash above it was bleeding. 

“He’s done,” Brock said hollowly.

“Don’t give up so easily,” Darcy said. “He’s got this.” She’d seen O’Brien take a deep breath and pull himself in. “He’s trained for this forever. He’s got it. He’s this close.” She was staring at the TV when Brock pried the half eaten pizza out of Darcy’s hand and tossed it in the box. “Hey, what--?” Darcy said, but Brock had already put his hands on either side of her face.

“I didn’t give up,” he said, expression solemn. Then he leaned up and kissed her. “I want you to know that,” he said in a low, intense voice.

“Ohhh,” Darcy said. “On me?” Her heart was racing at the look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. He pressed his mouth against hers. 

 

On the screen, O’Brien landed a clear blow against his opponent. Neither of them noticed when he won. 

 

“Oh God,” Darcy said, “that--that felt so--so much.” She couldn’t make words. She was wedged under Brock. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her slowly.

“Yeah?” Brock said. Both of them were very naked, slightly breathless, and dazed. This was round two. Sex rounds, not fight rounds. They fight had ended already. Jane had not been wrong about sex with your soulmate, Darcy realized. Soulmate. The thought made her feel even more dizzy. Darcy blinked at him. He pressed his nose against hers, nuzzling.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “So much. All the good feelings.” She moved her fingers down to his low back and started to giggle.

“Whaaa?” he whispered. He’d shut his eyes slightly.

“All mine,” she said. “Miiiine. Not sharing.” He chuckled. 

“Yeah?” he said. His eyes opened. He blinked slightly. She found herself transfixed. She thought of all the times they’d almost met. And the times they hadn’t. 

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for waiting for me.”

 

 

***

“I cannot believe you!” Jane was yelling when Darcy walked in with coffee. She had to duck a flying piece of crumpled paper.

“Well, if you weren’t so bloody hard-headed, maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” Jack yelled back.

“Um, guys? What is going on?” Darcy said. “Are you fighting? I didn’t think you did that?”

“Well, I recently discovered he’s a jerk!” Jane yelled. A frowning Jack crossed his arms.

“Can we elaborate?” Darcy said.

“He criticized my science!” Jane said.

“I didn’t, I swear,” Jack said, holding his hands up. 

“Uh oh,” Darcy said. 


End file.
